Remember When
by caughtinbetween
Summary: A long forgotten someone is the only who could teach him the depths of emotion and the boundries of the soul, all the while proving that reviving even our most magical memories can prove to as excruciating as reliving the most painful.
1. Default Chapter

**Remember When**  
  
Chapter One: Truth  
  
Hermione.  
  
Just the mere thought of her made him tingle. Anything and everything about her caused him to go weak in the knees and his mind to be swept blank. He couldn't stand to be away from her. Every moment he was by her side, he felt alive.  
  
Ron gazed mindlessly at the History of Magic essay he was attempting to write.  
  
_Frugle the Famous led the second wave of the Eastern Goblin Rebellions in 1743. Discuss._  
  
Scrawled out in front of him were two illegible inches of the assigned one foot of his essay that he had managed to write in the past hour. Sighing, he placed his quill to the parchment in hopes of regaining his concentration. However, he knew his attempts were fruitless. He'd lost his focus the moment he'd left Hermione in the common room.  
  
_Let's face it._ he thought to himself, _How could anyone concentrate with her near?  
_  
Ron gently screwed the cap to his inkbottle shut tight, rolled up his parchment, and tucked them messily into his school bag.  
  
_This is pathetic. I bet she's written a full three and a half feet..._  
  
Ron placed his head in his hands. He was exhausted. Almost every evening for a fortnight, Ron had set out alone to the library, bound and determined to clear his mind from all distractions, to be able to accomplish his assignments, and yet, every evening, without question, his mind wandered to one sole topic:  
  
Hermione.  
  
His performance in schoolwork had begun to falter, and was becoming steadily worse. Even though he'd brought up a surprising seven O.W.L.'s (nothing compared to Hermione's twelve), Ron had successfully achieved nothing more than P's at his very best in his recent homework assignments, and merely spiny D's for his latest Potion's essays.  
  
In his classes, Ron was constantly on the verge of falling asleep. Even between Harry's persistent suggestions that Ron have a lie-down, he felt his eyes leaden and often drifted to a state of mind somewhere between slumber and consciousness.  
  
Perhaps it was that these emotions he felt so strongly about had always been there, quiet and unnoticed. Perhaps that was the explanation for their continued bickering. However, he never realized just how much her cared for her until his fourth year.  
  
It was at the Yule Ball that he finally realized it. Captivated by her astounding beauty, Ron sensed a different aura about her, nearly as if she was gliding through silver clouds. It pained him to admit that he didn't recognize her stunning face next to Viktor Krum. However, on Christmas Day, and every day following, he found a new reason to marvel at her beauty and intelligence. Still, it was the jealousy of that Christmas Eve that often plagued him.  
  
Viktor Krum? Who in the magical community would say 'yes' to him? He was only the most internationally famous Quidditch player at the time. Ron knew that given the chance, many, if not all the girls attending the ball would have given a great deal to have been the one to open the ball and join him in a dance, Hermione obviously among them. Ron knew that if anyone was to blame for his grief, it was himself. He regret not even considering Hermione as a partner, and often wondered what would have happened if he had.  
  
It was obvious. He was in love. It wasn't the type of love between the average Hogwarts couple, but something much deeper and complex. After all, no one said falling for your best friend was easy. As much as Ron felt for Hermione (he never knew a single person could feel this much), he knew that his greatest weakness was the feeling that should never reveal this secret.  
  
Not a soul had yet discerned this incredible mystery, not even Harry, Ron's best friend. He would rather have it this way, than any other. Ron was terrified, of course, of revealing his true feelings to Hermione, but not just for fear of rejection. It was terror in knowing that he would change the relationship between his greatest friend, and in turn, lose one of the most magnificent phenomenon he'd ever encountered: their companionship.  
  
Ron raised his head, and looked ahead of him to a giant frost glazed window. Several snowflakes flitted quickly across the glass. He quickly glanced behind him, and watched as Madam Pince began her rounds, extinguishing the candles and forcing other late-night studiers out of the library. Ron quickly scooped his already packed school bag onto his shoulder and deserted his table before Madam Pince could reach him.  
  
It was quite chilly in the stone corridors, as it had passed into late January. Ron wrapped his robes close around his body, feeling his hand slide across his frosty Prefects Badge. He felt his breath condense into tiny clouds in front of him, his only companion being the strange echo of his footsteps in the deserted hallways. Ron took the familiar path to Gryffindor Tower. The History of Magic essay he had not managed to complete burned idly in the back of his mind, and Ron argued how best to finish it.  
  
It was quite pointless to attempt the last ten inches tonight, Ron decided as he rounded a corner on the sixth floor. The composition was due tomorrow afternoon. Perhaps he would get the chance to have a look at Harry's work before classes tomorrow.  
  
Ron climbed the final stairwell to the Seventh Floor, pondering the predicament he was in. He was fighting a losing battle. He knew it. He hated it. Time and again he felt vulnerable, and it angered him greatly. Very often he wished that everything would return to the way it used to be, when life was simple, and the world peaceful. However, he knew that nothing would return to the routine life at Hogwarts he used to know.  
  
Ron halted abruptly when he reached the end of the Seventh Floor Corridor. The Fat Lady was dozing in her frame, and jerked awake in surprise when Ron cleared his throat loudly to wake her.  
  
"Password?" she mumbled crossly, still half asleep.  
  
"Asphodel root." stated Ron clearly. The portrait concealing the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room swung open wide.  
  
"That's the ticket." He heard the Fat Lady mumble as her portrait closed swiftly behind him.  
  
Ron crossed the threshold into the Common Room rather quickly. The room was alive and bright, with a great fire roaring in the hearth. Ginny and a large group of Fifth years sat studying furiously by the fire, all silent with a deep look of loathing etched in their face. Around them stood several Third years, conversing quietly, warming their hands before turning into bed.  
  
Ron scanned the remainder of Common Room quickly, disappointed when he saw neither Harry nor Hermione. Assuming that the both of them had turned in for an early night, Ron sighed and headed to do the same.  
  
Weaving in and out of his fellow classmates, Ron finally reached the bottom of the stone spiral stair that would lead him to his dormitory. He turned and silently scanned the Common Room one more time. His eyes came to what he had assumed to be a deserted corner and rested on his two best friends. Neither noticed his presence.  
  
Hermione and Harry sat facing each other, both cast in shadow. They were conversing quietly, having already abandoned their studies. Hermione's hair was pulled gently away from her face. A golden light flickered tenderly across her porcelain skin. Beautiful. thought Ron, smiling to himself. He'd nearly reached their parchment-strewn table when Ron realized that something was not quite right.  
  
A single silver tear fell from Hermione's beautiful eyes reflecting brilliantly in the firelight. She brushed it away quickly, embarrassed, and continued speaking in hushed tones. Harry said something Ron couldn't discern in the babble of the crowded room. Hermione smiled, and Harry took her hand.  
  
Instantly Ron understood. He was too late. As Harry began to pull Hermione near, Ron called out.  
  
"What are you doing?!" he cried. Hermione looked up, a look of horror etched upon her face. Harry turned around as the room quieted. Ron felt the rest of the Common Room's eyes upon him. Hermione stood up quickly, letting go of Harry's hands.  
  
"Ron?" she asked timidly. Silence rang in his ears. "Ron, I can explain..."  
  
"I don't need your explanation." Ron spat, trying to ignore the extreme pain that was rising in his throat.  
  
He turned and ran.

**Author's Note:**  
  
This story is also posted on so please trust me, this is my own work. 


	2. The Meeting

**Remember When**  
  
Chapter Two: The Meeting  
  
Curfew had passed, but Ron didn't care. Nothing and no one could be of comfort for the horrible feeling that was wrapping itself tight around his heart. He ran, and didn't stop. Left, Right, up and down the marble stairs, Ron didn't know where he was going, nor was he very concerned. All that mattered was that he get as far from the once reassuring Gryffindor Common Room as was possible.  
  
Ron stopped suddenly, unaware as to which part of the castle he had strayed to. His steps made footprints on the dusty floor. Perhaps he had strayed to one of the more deserted parts of the giant castle. He stole softly to a mysterious stairway he'd never seen or heard of before. It was carefully concealed behind a large purple tapestry. He knew, and was relieved, that no one would find him here. He was not sure, nor did he care where these steps might lead him.  
  
_Two years!_ he thought, cursing, as he began to climb the steps. _Two years of a maddening heartache, and all in vain! Never once had she cast her eye on me, not while she was with him!  
_  
As his thoughts turned to his two now former best friends, Ron cringed, and hurried up the secret stair even faster. The winter chill was arctic. The steep walls were illuminated by moonlight filtering through from a wide doorway at the top of the stair. One hundred steps, now two hundred... the stair was carved crudely of stone and draped with a fine layer of dust. Ron sneezed and slipped on the musty steps, crying out as his shins came in contact with the rock. His shout echoed shrilly against the high walls. However, his physical pain was futile against the excruciating agony writhing snakelike around his heart.  
  
Ron couldn't help but run his finger over the rough edges of the stair, through the layer of dust. They seemed ancient, nearly as if no one had passed here in years. It was oddly quiet. It seemed as if he could scream something dreadful into the silence, only for it to stay trapped between the walls for a thousand years. He felt a cold stab in his fingers as they inadvertently brushed against the icy, jagged edges of stone. Ron felt along the tips of his fingers. A fine trickle of crimson red blood seeped in incredible contrast over his pale skin.  
  
As he paused, alone on the bitter stone steps, the terrible feeling ensnaring Ron from the inside out multiplied. A glass teardrop skated unnoticed down his cheek, resting on the breast of his robes as it fell from his quivering chin. First one...now another...now another. It was not long before his skin was soaked with tears.  
  
Ron felt numb, not knowing what else to feel. He couldn't help but to relive what he had just seen over and over in his mind. The picture was so clear, he nearly felt as if he were an outsider, watching the events roll on film. Upon seeing Harry take Hermione's hand once again, Ron let out a trembling shout of sorrow. He clenched his fingers to his palms, staining them with blood.  
  
_How could I have missed it?_ thought Ron angrily, pulling his black robes close across his chest.  
  
The very air around him felt frozen itself. Everything was quite clear to him now. How long had he been kept blind to the verity that it was Harry Hermione had felt for all these years? He couldn't stop speculating how things might be different if he'd only overcome his fear of letting Hermione know how he really felt. Would it have changed things at all?  
  
Ron had often heard the woes of his fellow Gryffindor Fifth Years and the troubles of their relationships with their 'special someone'. However, he'd never quite seen what all the fuss was about. It was just a silly girl, after all, wasn't it? Yes, just a girl. , Ron told himself firmly, trying desperately to believe it. Still, he knew that Hermione wasn't, and never had been, 'just a girl.'  
  
As he rested in the tiny hallway, Ron strayed out of all sense of time. How long was it since he'd deserted the Common Room? Only minutes? Hours? It did not worry him. He partly wished that they would find him here, for them to comprehend a fraction of his anguish. But he didn't expect anyone to understand. No one would.  
  
Unexpectedly, the blinding light issuing from the doorway was disturbed. The immediate disruption plunged Ron into a frigid and inescapable black cold, dragging Ron back to his senses. He looked to the top of the stair, standing nearly one hundred yards above him.  
  
Someone stood in the stone doorway, silhouetted against the bright white light of a pearly moon. A feeling of calm washed over Ron, his physical pain soothed, his heartache pacified. He wiped his tearstained face on the sleeve of his robes. He stared transfixed at the person, a girl, in the doorway. _She was beautiful._ Yet as soon as she had come, the figure passed, bathing him once again in silver moonlight.  
  
The feeling of calm the girl had brought in her passing was replaced by incredible curiosity. Ron deftly pushed himself up from the rocky steps and ran furiously into the moonlight.  
  
The intense cold magnified as he stepped into the burning light. Ron had found himself in a small stone tower. Tall, arching, open windows lined the circular wall. Through the window ahead of him, Ron could see a beautiful blazing full moon, filling the tiny space with bright white light. A fresh layer of snow clung firmly to each sill, spilling benevolently to the stone floor within. By looking through the window to his right, Ron could glimpse the school's Greenhouses. However, he knew he had never seen this tower before.  
  
The girl who had passed the stone entrance stood silently to his left, not even acknowledging his presence. She gazed fixedly out toward the lake. Moonlight, complemented by dark shadow, covered her, giving her a pale, nearly transparent glow. She was crying.  
  
Ron wasn't sure what to do. He shivered. "Hello?" he called quietly. When the girl did not reply, he called out louder, "Excuse me? I--"  
  
"Leave me alone!" she interrupted icily, her words cooler than the air surrounding them.  
  
Ron was taken aback by her sudden remark. "Listen," he said, stepping forward, "it's freezing like mad up here. Why don't we go back to the castle and--" A shaking sob issued from the girl, causing Ron to stop short. When the girl didn't respond, he paused for a moment. "What's your name?" he finally whispered, quietly.  
  
For the third time, the girl stood silent. Ron held out a comforting hand, only to find that when he stepped close enough to reach her, his hand merely slipped through her shoulder, plunging him into an unpreventable swirling cold, more icy than the January night air.  
  
Ron let out an audible gasp. "You're a ghost!"  
  
Expecting nothing less than a fresh wave of screaming from the ethereal young woman, Ron cowered backwards and turned to leave the round stone room, but had gone naught but two steps when he heard her speak. Quite apart from the frigid manner she had adopted when he had first come, her tone was frail and quiet.  
  
"Aislynn."  
  
"What?" Ron inquired, turning from the doorway.  
  
"You wanted to know my name." She replied, speaking softly, finally turning to face him. "My name is Aislynn."  
  
Ron couldn't help but notice how very pretty she was. A thick plait of silver hair fell down to her waist, and dark almond eyes accentuated her smooth, glassy skin. She was fairly tall, though not as lofty as Ron himself. He took great notice of the black school robes she was wearing, and the Prefect's Badge pinned neatly at her breast.  
  
"Ron Weasley." He replied faintly. He thrust out his hand in front of him, and in realizing the mistake that he had made, withdrew it quickly.  
  
Aislynn merely smiled, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Why are you here?" she asked.  
  
Ron stood in silence before sinking against the stone wall. He rested against the rock, feeling his breath again condense into minute clouds against his lips. He shivered involuntarily, but he didn't mind. The cold would keep him awake.  
  
"It was nothing." He said quickly, not wanting to relive the pain he had suffered previously. "It's not important."  
  
"It must have been important," Aislynn said knowingly joining him against the wall. "if you were to run from it."  
  
Resentment swiftly swelled in his veins like a poison. "What do you know about it?" spat Ron indignantly. "Nothing!"  
  
"I would know," she injected suddenly, before Ron could say more, "because I ran too."  
  
Ron didn't reply, but merely watched as she floated to the window surveying the lake.  
  
"I was in my sixth year when it happened." She began softly. "I had everything I could ever ask for. I was Muggleborn, but had finally found my home at Hogwarts. I had the greatest friends imaginable, I'd just brought in twelve O.W.L.'s, I was at the top of my class, and even had the greatest boyfriend imaginable, someone could imagine spending the rest of my life with..."  
  
Her voice trailed off into silence. Ron could see the hint of a tear in her eye.  
  
"At Christmas, everything changed," Aislynn continued, with the voice of someone willing him or herself not to cry. "I didn't go home for the holidays, having convinced my parents that as a Prefect, I was needed at the school, and that I required the library for studying. Shortly before New Years, Professor Flitwick, the head of my house, Ravenclaw, pulled me aside to tell me my father had died. I was allowed home for a few days, of course, to comfort my poor mother, and attend the service. However, when I came back to Hogwarts, nothing was quite the same.  
  
"I was numb with grief. My grades began to fail, my friends seemed more distant, and eventually left me, replacing me with others who were cheerful and exciting, not a person like me who would weigh them down with sadness. Soon it seemed like only Rolland, my boyfriend, would stay by my side. But I was mistaken.  
  
"Deep into January, more than a hundred years ago, we snuck up to this tower for what would come to be our final night together. This had always been 'our place', as no one in the entire school had yet found the entrance. When he told me everything was over, my last thread of hope broke. I cried myself to sleep beneath this very window. I never woke up.  
  
"It was hushed up, of course, telling my poor mother I was killed in some kind of 'magical accident'. I was afraid of death. I was only sixteen, and had my life ahead of me. So I decided to remain here on earth, wandering sleeplessly in this vain image of life. I waited years for someone to find me. No one ever did. Rolland never came back, though I was nearly positive he would. Nor did he ever breathe the secret to entering this place. Thus, my body was never found. The years have weathered it into the setting sun. I've never been compelled to leave this place."  
  
Aislynn sighed, having completed her story. She made her way back to Ron, resting peacefully against the stone wall.  
  
Ron said nothing. He couldn't help but to notice that many of the elements of her story were true for himself, though many were radically different. She had suffered most terrible losses. Ron had only become angry and upset. He also began to feel quite foolish for running from what he'd seen. It was several moments before she spoke again.  
  
"I have told you my tale." Aislynn told him quietly, smiling. "Now it is your turn to tell me yours." 


	3. Year One

**Remember When**  
  
Chapter Three: Year One  
  
More than a few long minutes passed before Ron could find his voice to speak, still stunned by Aislynn's words.  
  
_It is your turn to tell me yours...  
_  
_What story is there to tell?_ Thought Ron angrily, as the winter chill wove its icy fingers through his veins. He gave an involuntary shiver. He glanced quickly up into Aislynn's sorrowful eyes, watching transparent tears slip on her glassy skin. She smiled encouragingly.  
  
Ron took a deep, slow breath, and nodded. Staring down at his feet, Ron let go of his conscious mind, and let memories of the recent years fill him. They reeled through him like an old picture show, some parts sharp and clear, other events a little smudged at the edges. He found that once he started talking, he couldn't stop, each word relieving a tiny weight that had been tied to his chest.  
  
He remembered when he first met her, on their first train ride to Hogwarts. Back then, Hermione had been an unbearable know-it-all in Ron's opinion, not that she had changed much. She still maintained her bossy attitude and over achieving outlook on her education, and yet, she began to show her true Gryffindor qualities, such as bravery and loyalty. He also remembered the night he finally befriended her, and every night that succeeded it. He recalled the joyous moments, as well as times of loss, and even relived the terrifying events that had enused at the end of last term, and the other memories that were usually to painful to consider. But most of all, he remembered the reason why he was here. The person who he cared for above any other individual to walk this earth.  
  
He remembered Hermione.

---

Ron raised his wand in attempt to show off what little magic he thought he knew to Harry Potter, a boy who he'd just befriended. Harry watched keenly over Ron's shoulder with interest. Before Ron could mutter the magic words, the compartment door slid open, revealing the slightly hysterical boy who they'd seen only moments before inquiring about a certain missing toad, but was this time accompanied by a confident looking First Year witch. The girl had a mass of thick, unkempt caramel colored hair, and two rather large front teeth, which did nothing for the bossy voice that escaped her lips.  
  
"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one."  
  
"We've already told him we haven't seen it." Ron replied, annoyed. He turned quickly back to Harry, remembering his magical demonstration, trusting the girl and the boy who had just interrupted would be going on their way. However, the officious girl had already noticed the wand in his hand and quickly took a seat beside him before he could protest.  
  
"Oh, are you doing magic?" She asked excitedly. "Let's see it, then."  
  
Ron scowled at her, clearly taken aback. A nervous, jumpy feeling clawed at his stomach. He cleared his throat and raised his wand. He muttered the spell his older brother George had given him, waved his wand in a complicated sort of motion before ending it with a jab at his rat's oversized stomach. Nothing happened. The rat, Scabbers, remained gray and fast asleep instead of turning yellow, as the spell was supposed to do.  
  
The girl looked at him sourly before launching into an explanation of all the spells she had already mastered while Ron sank backwards in embarrassment, his face red enough to match his fiery locks. He managed to ignore most of the words that flew from her mouth, while she spoke with a voice that was full to bursting with enthusiasm. She began to recite books and spells and wand movements so quickly, she completely forgot the original occupants of the compartment. Ron merely continued to disregard her high-pitched voice, while Harry struggled to keep up out of sheer politeness. The girl was breathless by the time she proclaimed, "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"  
  
"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron mumbled quietly from his corner of the compartment, still rather flustered. He should have known the spell was a dud; after all, it had come from his sly brother George. He sank further back still into the cozy, but somehow unwelcome corner of the Hogwarts Express, feeling invisible as Hermione Granger became overly animated upon learning that the second boy in the compartment was the famous Harry Potter.  
  
Ron was sincerely glad when Hermione left his and Harry's compartment moments later, dragging Neville, the toadless boy, with her. From that point on, he decided that he did not have any interest in befriending Hermione Granger and earnestly hoped that whichever house he was placed in, she would not be joining him there.

---

Ron paused for a moment, smiling inwardly, soaking up all remnants of the memory of that day, as Aislynn waited patiently. A silent chuckle escaped his lips, remembering how Hermione had been when she had come to Hogwarts: a bothersome, bushy-haired witch, recently released from the Muggle Worlds seemingly suffocating grasp. He didn't have to reach far into his mind to see that she had become an attractive woman now, passionately in love with learning, with the world at her feet begging to be touched by her inexplicable beauty.  
  
No, he had not enjoyed Hermione's company that day, and would not for eight long weeks. Ron didn't think much of those months without her by his side at the time, but now, looking back on it, he couldn't imagine attempting one of Snape's legendary Potions Essays without her looking over his shoulder, obsessively correcting his mistakes.  
  
The thought of the night that he had finally befriended Hermione, a splendor overlooked, he'd realized later began to play in his mind. The warmth of that unforgettable experience swept deftly through his veins, warming his frosty skin. Within seconds, words fluttered off his tongue, but Ron couldn't hear them. Instead, he was in the past, reliving each second as if it was today.

---

Weeks began to pass quickly, and soon, the warmth of September had faded seamlessly into the dreariness of October. Their magical lessons were becoming progressively harder with each consecutive class, and Ron was beginning to feel more at home at Hogwarts. Coming from an all magic family, Ron didn't have as much to become accustomed to as his best friend, Harry Potter, who had grown up with the worst kind of Muggle you could dream of. Still, Ron had a lot to learn, and was not prepared for Professor Quirrell's erratic announcement at the Halloween Feast.  
  
"Troll—in the dungeons—"he gasped,"thought you ought to know" He then proceeded to slump to the ground, unconscious.  
  
A brief moment of silence transpired before pandemonium erupted in the Great Hall. Students began to shriek in fear and scrambled for the exit. The younger students scuttled around to form tight knit groups between the four house tables, obviously feeling strength in numbers, while Prefects drew their wands like swords, menacing looks on their faces, acting as if the troll would storm in to the Great Hall within seconds.  
  
A great fear began to engulf Ron. He'd heard stories about trolls before, though he wasn't able to recall very much. What he did remember, however, was that they were great ugly brutes that showed little mercy, but had very little intellect within their thick skulls. Ron wondered why would a troll attack Hogwarts? Conversely, he knew that trolls were too stupid to be able to have done something like this of their own accord, and his mind flitted to possible suspects. Obviously, Ron thought with triumph, someone let that troll inside... He couldn't help but wonder about the grubby package Harry was sure was hidden beneath the trapdoor and the giant three-headed dog they had recently encountered.  
  
Ron struggled back to the fear at hand as Professor Dumbledore fought the chaos with a string of purple firecrackers.  
  
"Prefects, lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"  
  
Ron heard Percy gathering students behind him. He and Harry quickly joined him and exited the Great Hall swiftly. Ron was ashamed to admit to himself that every time they turned a corner on their ascent to the Gryffindor Common Room, he nearly expected to see a big hairy something looming in their path. While fighting through a thicket of Hufflepuffs, Ron felt Harry grab his shoulder.  
  
"I've just thought—Hermione."  
  
Ron felt a pang of guilt in his stomach, hearing the girl's shrill voice echo inside his head. _"You're doing it wrong! It's Win-_gar_-dium Levi-_o_-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long"!_ After all, it had been partially his fault that Hermione didn't know about the troll. _"It's no wonder no one can stand her,"_ he heard himself say, recalling their break after Charms Class, _"she's a nightmare, honestly..."  
_  
"What about her?" Ron tried to brush away the guilty feeling that was clinging to his ribs, but to no avail.  
  
"She doesn't know about the troll." Harry proclaimed dumbly.  
  
Ron quickly fought an internal battle, chewing his lip. "Oh, all right..."  
  
Harry and Ron hesitantly joined the group of Hufflepuffs they had just passed, and headed back the way they came, Ron still trembling.  
  
And thus passed their next adventure. After locking the twelve-foot mountain troll in the Girl's Toilet with an unsuspecting Hermione Granger, Harry performed a stunt of stupidity by thrusting his wand up the troll's nose, while Ron had managed to knock it out with it's own club. As the troll staggered to the cold tile floor, a feeling of euphoria washed over Ron, and after years of being ignored and overshadowed by his many siblings, he finally felt he had proven himself worthy to be a Weasley, a feeling that vanished the moment Professor McGonagall, accompanied by Professors Snape and Quirrell had appeared upon the scene.  
  
"What on earth were you thinking of?" Professor McGonagall shouted.  
  
Thousands of excuses raced through Ron's mind, each as unbelievable as the next. He stammered something incoherently, trying to think of a justification the three professors would believe. They'd gotten lost, they had been accompanying a nervous Hermione to the Girl's Toilet, thinking the troll had been captured already—  
  
"Please Professor McGonagall—they were looking for me." A small but sure voice shattered through his thoughts. The wand he had been holding in his hand clattered to the floor as he listened to Hermione Granger tell their furious Transfiguration teacher that it had been her fault. Professor McGonagall listened intently, listening to Hermione's explanation, her mouth thinning with each passing second.  
  
Ron could not believe the words that were escaping Hermione's lips. He had never known her to do anything that was not strictly within the lengthy list of rules she had found in Hogwarts, A History, and lying to a Hogwarts professor was definitely not within that set of laws. He winced as Professor McGonagall scolded Hermione, taking five points from Gryffindor House, as if it was he who was explaining what had just happened. He watched as Hermione scampered from the room, her footsteps quickly echoing sharply off the tile.  
  
"Well, I still say you were lucky," Professor McGonagall said as she turned to Harry and Ron, "but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."  
  
Ron immediately gathered his wand, leaving the Girl's Toilet as hastily as was possible, Harry at his heels.  
  
When they had finally ascended the many floors to Gryffindor Tower, the Common Room was tightly packed and extremely boisterous. There was, however, one student who remained by the portrait hole, arms clasped tightly, her head facing downward. She jumped at Harry and Ron's arrival.  
  
There was an awkward pause. "Thanks," they mumbled in unison, before dashing in separate directions.  
  
Ron did not know that night, as he fell asleep with a slight smile on his face in Gryffindor Tower, replaying the night's adventures, the impact this day would have on the next several years of his life. He could not have predicted that tonight's adventure would ensue such an incredible friendship he had never dreamed being a part of. He never stopped to think that the day's events were of any great importance. No, he did not know that Hermione Granger would change him forever.

**Author's Note:**  
  
Due to family vacation and severe writer's block, this chapter has been delayed for quite some time now, and it is a relief to finally post it.  
  
Several quotes and the flashbacks are all J.K. Rowling's work, and I am definitely not trying to take credit for such genius. I'm not trying to rewrite the books either. Trust me, these flashbacks are vital to the story.  
  
A very warm 'thanks!' to my reviewers, as their comments have helped me immensely, and a special thanks to lillykk (who, if you haven't noticed, is my sister), for helping me struggle through these flashbacks, and clean and edit for me. 2,114 words (including author's note), Kelsey! Have I beaten you yet? :-D  
  
Thank you for reading, and I hope to have the next chapter out more quickly this time! Please leave a review!  
  
Katie


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